


We'll Be a Fine Line (We'll Be Alright)

by crunchyseaweed



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, Boys In Love, Cuddling, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie does Van Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22066255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crunchyseaweed/pseuds/crunchyseaweed
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak has a great life. He lives in New York, he has a good job, a decent apartment, and amazing friends. He doesn’t really think he wants anything more.[12 November 2019, 11:43am] From: Richie Tozierso, i was actually thinking of coming by to see ya in NY for the hols and new years! could i crash at yours? my van’s great n all but i think i need to recoup somewhere more stable for a while, y’know?Okay. Maybe he does.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 173





	We'll Be a Fine Line (We'll Be Alright)

**Author's Note:**

> before we get into this fic, here are a few disclaimers: 
> 
> firstly, this story isn’t entirely mine. it’s based off a stucky fic called [Friday I’m in Love by betts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4077001) that I fell in love with a few years ago and i wanted something similar for reddie. i’ve added my own elements into it, but the main conflicts and pacing are the same. i also don’t own any of the characters! 
> 
> secondly, i think this is the first time I’ve written any sort of fanfiction in full and I also haven’t written anything in a long time, so please bear that in mind if there’s anything too jarring (but I hope not hahaha). 
> 
> lastly, some warnings for tipsy sex/smoking in this. 
> 
> that’s about it! title is from harry styles' fine line. thank you to my friend [dianaothemyscira](https://dianaothemyscira.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for reading through this and giving me feedback and just putting up with me in general. i’m also relatively new to the IT fandom (i know the franchise is over but please let me live), so hello to whoever’s reading this. enjoy!

Eddie’s with Bill and Mike during their weekly weekend brunch when he receives the messages. They’re tucked away in the corner of a warm, cozy bistro on the outskirts of Manhattan, discussing the latest shitty Christmas Netflix special. They’re laughing about the latest instalment of the _Christmas Prince_ franchise over their overpriced French toast and eggs benedict when Eddie’s phone pings a couple times. 

**You have two new messages from: Richie Tozier**

Eddie’s brows furrow slightly in confusion at the notification, and his smile fades. 

“Eddie? Hey, you alright?” Bill asks, reaching a hand towards Eddie. Eddie looks up from his phone and clears his throat, ignoring the concerned looks of the pair across him in favour for his mimosa. He downs whatever is remaining and orders another. 

“Eddie,” Bill says, slightly frustrated. Eddie finally meets his eyes. 

“It’s… It’s Richie. Tozier,” Eddie purses his lips, fingers tapping nervously. Bill’s expression softens a little. 

“Richie Tozier? As in _Rolling with Richie_ Richie?” Mike suddenly asks, a look of surprise comes over his face. He earns a warning glare from Bill, and he puts his hands up, mouthing a sorry. 

Eddie sighs, thanking the waiter as she sets down his second mimosa. “Yeah, that Richie. We knew each other as kids. Don’t know what he wants, he usually ever texts on like, special occasions. Birthdays, Christmas, whatever.” 

“Jesus, it’s been so long,” Bill says softly. “How’s he been doing?” 

“I don’t fuckin’ know, Billy. You guys seem to be following him, though, shouldn’t you know?” Eddie snaps, and he immediately winces at the misplaced sharpness of his tone. It’s not like Bill has seen Richie since he’d moved away from Derry when they turned 15, after his younger brother Georgie passed away. _Too many bad memories_ , Bill had echoed his mother’s words when he broke the news to Eddie and Richie. They lost contact a few months after, and Eddie had only reunited with Bill years later in NYU. 

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles, and he looks down, suddenly finding his cuticles very interesting. He picks at a piece of dry skin on the edge of his index finger. Bill rolls his eyes, though not unkindly, used to Eddie’s outbursts through stressful periods in college. 

“Don’t worry about it, Eddie,” Bill says curtly, finishing up the rest of his cappuccino. 

Mike gives Eddie a sympathetic look. “Are you going to reply him?” 

“Well, I guess I’ll see what he has to say,” Eddie replies, turning his phone face down on the table. “What? I’ll reply him later.”

&

Eddie fumbles for his keys as he reaches the door of his apartment, the two mimosas from lunch making his head swim a little. He stumbles into his studio apartment and hangs his coat up on the rack by the door and toes his shoes off. He dumps his keys on the kitchen counter before heading straight for his bed and flopping onto it. He pulls his phone from his pocket and sees that there are two more messages from Richie. Eddie huffs, staring at the notifications before mustering up enough courage to open them.

 **[12 November 2019, 11:43am] From: Richie Tozier**  
hey eds! it’s been a while. hope you’ve been alright? i know this is kinda sudden but i have a small favour to ask? 

**[12 November 2019, 11:43am] From: Richie Tozier**  
so, i was actually thinking of coming by to see ya in NY for the hols and new years! could i crash at yours? my van’s great n all but i think i need to recoup somewhere more stable for a while, y’know? 

**[12 November 2019, 12:03pm] From: Richie Tozier**  
anyways, let me know alright eds? it’s rly ok if u can’t 

**[12 November 2019, 12:05pm] From: Richie Tozier**  
miss u bud 

Eddie stares at the texts, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He chews the inside of his cheek, contemplating a response. He hasn’t seen Richie in years, not since he’d spent all summer after graduation fixing up his dad’s old van to set out on a grand road trip, leaving Eddie to go to college alone. Eddie remembers clinging on to Richie on the day they said their goodbyes, tears staining his face and Richie’s ragged band tee that he’d worn too many times. He remembers not wanting to let go, to tell Richie to stay, but he didn’t. So Richie left, and Eddie packed up his own life into his car and set off to NYU a few weeks later. 

Eddie shoves his face into his pillow, letting out a loud groan. His thoughts overlap and cloud his head, and he almost thinks himself into a panic attack. In a brief moment of clarity, he sits up. _Fuck it_ , he thinks, typing out a response. 

**[12 November 2019, 1:47pm] To: Richie Tozier**  
Hey Rich :) I’ve been good. Hope you’ve been the same. You’re welcome to stay with me any time, you know that. I’ve only got a studio though, hope that’s alright. 

**[12 November 2019, 2:02pm] From: Richie Tozier**  
eds spagheds! good to hear frm u. n it’s no worries, i’m used to living in small spaces :D i’m currently in indiana finishing up some work. i’ll head over in about a couple weeks? how does the 29th sound? 

The nickname tugs at something in Eddie’s chest, and he tries to be annoyed with it. He sighs but attaches his address and sends it over to Richie. 

**[12 November 2019, 2:04pm] To: Richie Tozier**  
29th works, Rich. Here’s my address. I get off work around 5, so it’s better if you come after that. See ya

&

It’s the 29th and Eddie wakes up with a dreadfully excited buzz that spreads from under his scalp to his toes. He spends most of the day at his desk, trying but failing to focus on his paperwork that day.

“Eddie, I swear to fuck if you don’t quit shaking your leg, I will tie your legs to your chair,” a voice snaps Eddie out of his jittery disposition, and for once, he’s actually grateful for the distraction. He grins slyly at his coworker at the next desk, whose lips are pursed in feigned annoyance. 

“That’s real kinky, Stan. Make sure Patty doesn’t get jealous,” Eddie quips back, his eyes darting towards Stan’s fiancée who’s sitting a few desks over. He giggles, his nerves slightly calmer. Stan rolls his eyes at Eddie. 

“What’s got you so on edge today? You look like you’re ready to explode.” 

“I’m not on edge,” Eddie replies. 

“Eddie, that’s your third cup of coffee today,” Stan nods towards Eddie’s mug, eyebrows raised. 

“Well, you got me there,” Eddie scowls at Stan. “Just an old friend coming by to visit me. Haven’t seen them in a while, that’s all.” 

“Oh yeah? Why’re you so nervous then? Aren’t you excited?” Stan pokes, leaning back in his chair, still facing Eddie. 

“I knew him from high school,” Eddie starts. “Left on this great American road trip ala Jack Kerouac when we graduated. Haven’t exactly seen him since.” 

“Damn, who knew you had adventurous friends?” Eddie gives Stan an unimpressed look. 

“Alright, asshole, no need to call me out. Go back to your work,” Eddie huffs, and he flicks the nearest item on his desk at Stan, which happens to be a binder clip. Stan laughs and dodges it easily.

&

At 5pm, Eddie promptly packs up his stuff and books it out of the office, shouting a goodbye to Stan and Patty. The buzz under his skin has grown, and Eddie swears he might be vibrating. He’s reaching his building and thinking about what to cook for dinner when he sees a familiar red van parked on the side of the road. It’s beaten and weathered, and there are splatters of dried mud on its side. Then he sees a familiar mop of hair, tied up into a messy bun, where Richie is sitting on the steps of his building, smoking a cigarette.

Eddie stops in his tracks, his heartbeat in his ears and heart in his throat. Any thought of dinner is gone, and he suddenly wants nothing more than to run in the opposite direction. Richie has a different idea though; he perks up when he sees Eddie frozen on the pavement, steps out his cigarette, and runs straight for Eddie. 

“Eds! Eddie Spaghetti! C’mere you dickwad!” Richie’s shouts, and his smile lights up his face as he runs towards Eddie, arms spread out. He scoops Eddie into a huge hug in the middle of the street, giggling. Eddie hugs him back, gripping the back of Richie’s coat and instinctively burying his face in Richie’s chest, breathing him in. He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but when Richie pulls away, Eddie almost grabs him again, to hold on to him for a while more. He silently curses his emotions as he wipes his face, but Richie’s eyes are also shining with tears, and he’s holding Eddie’s shoulders and grinning at him. 

“Jesus, Eds. You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Richie says, and Eddie thinks his face must be hurting from all the smiling he’s doing. Richie wipes his eyes, sniffling a little, and wraps an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, jostling him along towards his building. From what Eddie can see, Richie hasn’t changed much physically. He’s outgrown the last of the baby fat in his cheeks, his jawline strong but delicate, and his hair is longer. He still wears glasses, making him look slightly bug-eyed. 

“You’re early,” Eddie observes, walking slowly alongside Richie. 

“Yeah, I got kinda excited and decided to drop by earlier. Forgot you had work,” Richie laughs. “I haven’t been waiting long though, I had pretty much just arrived when you got here.” 

Eddie doesn’t know what to say, or rather, where to start. So, he asks, “How’s the van?” 

“Jessie’s been great! She’s a little beaten up, as you can tell, but she’s treated me well. Wanna take a look inside?” Richie asks, and Eddie nods. Richie opens up the side door to his van where he’s built in a single stovetop where a burnt pot sits, storage cabinets, and a bedframe at the back. Eddie climbs in and takes in the sight; it’s small and messy, Richie’s clothes piled atop a worn-out Nike gym bag next to the bed, and the dashboard is cluttered with what seems to be memorabilia of his travels. Eddie recognises some trinkets from Richie’s home back in Derry. There are magnets from towns that Richie’s visited littering the dashboard, along with bobbleheads and empty perfume bottles that he’s tacked to the PVC. Richie’s guitar from high school leans against the stove, peppered with stickers. 

“Welcome to my humble abode! Not too shabby, eh? Think I did a decent job,” Richie announces, hands on his hips. He climbs in and squeezes his way past Eddie, kicking stuff out of his way and flopping on his bed. Eddie sits on a wooden crate on the floor. 

“This is… This is so cool, Rich,” Eddie says, astonished. “You really did this in the span of a few months?” 

“Nah, built in the stove and bed that summer before I left. The rest I slowly did on the way,” Richie says. “Not real conventional, usually you’d do everything before you leave, but I just… I couldn’t wait.” 

Eddie swallows nervously, and he looks around the small van, admiring how homely Richie had made it.

“You hungry?” Eddie asks suddenly, breaking the silence. Richie chuckles. 

“Eds, I’m fucking _starving_.”

&

Eddie unlocks the door to his apartment, opening it wider for Richie and his bags. Richie drops them by the door and puts his coat up.

“Jesus, Eds, when you said studio, I fully expected to be able to touch the opposite walls with both hands. How do you… how you do you even afford this?” Richie is looking around the apartment while Eddie gets out of his coat and drops his keys on the counter. 

“Got a decent job fresh out of graduation,” Eddie shrugs. “Got lucky, I guess. And hey, dickwad, no shoes in my apartment,” he says pointedly, and Richie smirks and complies, leaving his beaten-up Converse sneakers by the door. Eddie makes his way to the fridge, looking for ingredients for dinner. 

“Is fried rice okay? I’ve got some leftover rice and kimchi that needs to be eaten.” Eddie asks, reaching into his fridge. 

“What do you even do at your job? And I’ve never tried kimchi, but you’ve got me interested.” Richie leans over the counter, watching Eddie prepare the ingredients for their dinner. 

“I’m in risk management,” Eddie starts, picking out kimchi pieces from their container and chopping them into smaller pieces. 

“That sounds so interesting, Eds,” and Eddie purses his lips at Richie’s sarcasm. It wasn’t exactly a fun job, but he didn’t want to admit it. 

“Yeah, yeah, Richie. It’s not fun like the influencer life, but it pays the bills,” Eddie replies, and Richie doesn’t poke further. Eddie’s getting the bacon out of its packet when Richie asks, “Did you just move in? Where’s all your furniture?” 

Eddie frowns, and looks up to see Richie eyeing the queen-sized mattress across the room curiously. He looks around his apartment but can’t seem to find anything that sticks out. The mattress sits below his window, and there’s a small wooden crate beside his mattress with some books and a lamp on top of it. At the foot of the bed there’s a plain dresser for Eddie’s clothes. Opposite his bed is a small wooden desk with his laptop and some stationery for when he does work from home, and there’s a simple desk chair behind it. 

“Been here almost a year, lease is up in February. And I don’t know what you mean, Rich, I have furniture. Don’t tell me you got blinder,” Eddie snarks, and Richie barks out a laugh. “I got just about everything I need. Except a washing machine, that’s in the laundry room downstairs.” 

“I meant it looks a little empty, don’t you think?” Richie says, and Eddie guesses his walls are a little bare. There’s a beat before Richie speaks again, “Didn’t you keep any stuff from home?” 

“No,” Eddie says quickly, and Richie raises an eyebrow. “Well, yes, but not a lot of things. Clearly,” Eddie gestures to his apartment. 

“What did you keep?” Richie asks, walking around the counter and jumping up onto the counter to sit next to the stove, pouring himself a glass of water. 

“I… Nothing much, Rich. It all fits into a crate,” Eddie sighs, and he starts to set out the ingredients for frying. Richie’s looking at him curiously now, and Eddie averts his gaze and sets a pan on the stove and turns on the flame, dropping a dollop of butter in. 

“It all fits in there? That’s all you kept?” Richie asks quietly, sipping from his glass. 

“Yeah, Rich,” Eddie bites out, trying not to snap. “I didn’t wanna go through all my mom’s shit, alright?” He watches the butter slowly melt and bubble in the pan, and he can feel Richie’s eyes burning holes into the side of his head. 

Sonia Kaspbrak had passed away suddenly from a heart attack during the spring break of Eddie’s second year at NYU, and he’d gone back to Derry to deal with the funeral. Bill was his roommate that year, and he’d followed Eddie for support. Eddie hadn’t cried when he received the news over the phone, nor when they slowly lowered her casket into the wet ground of the cemetery. But when he was packing up the house with Bill, the sight of the stacks of pill bottles in one of the cabinets caused something in Eddie to snap, and the next thing he knew was that he was screaming and heaving, throwing the bottles onto the kitchen floor. Bill had walked in on Eddie’s meltdown, watching years and years of resentment and pain caused by Sonia’s control over her son pour out of Eddie’s screaming mouth. Bill didn’t do anything to stop Eddie, and when it was over, he sat next to Eddie’s sobbing body on the messy kitchen floor and held him close. Eddie didn’t give a second thought to getting rid of everything in the house, keeping only a shoebox of his most treasured memories and putting everything on an estate sale and sold the house with the help of his family lawyer. 

Eddie registers the warmth against his back belatedly, and he’s pulled out from his memories, realising that Richie is hugging him, his arms loose around the smaller man’s waist. Eddie freezes. 

“Your butter is gonna burn,” Richie murmurs into Eddie’s hair, and Eddie sighs, dropping the bacon and garlic into the pan before stirring it up slightly. He doesn’t reply Richie. 

“I’m sorry,” Richie barely whispers. “I should’ve been there.” Eddie laughs wetly, trying not to turn it into a sneer. 

“Yeah, Rich,” Eddie sniffs. “Maybe you should’ve. But we can’t change that now can we.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and Eddie sighs, prying Richie’s hands off his waist before adding more ingredients to the pan. He’s being rude, he knows, but he doesn’t want to deal with emotions of the past right now. 

“Hey, uh, you mind if I shower before we eat?” Richie asks quietly, his voice small and hesitant. It makes Eddie’s chest ache a little. 

“Yeah, go ahead, Rich. It should be ready in about ten minutes. You need a towel?” Richie nods, and Eddie directs him to the fourth drawer on his dresser. Eddie finishes dinner and had just finished setting the two plates of fried rice on his desk with two glasses of water when Richie comes out of the shower, his long curls hanging around his face, damp and loose. Eddie takes the books and lamp off the crate by his bed and uses it as a chair, letting Richie take the one behind the desk. Richie shovels a spoonful of rice into his mouth, letting out a loud moan. Eddie feels his cheeks heat up. 

“Oh my god, Eddie. This is so fuckin’ good.” 

“It’s not too spicy, is it?” Eddie asks. Richie shakes his head, laughing. 

“I know we’re white as hell, Eds, but this is fine. This is really good. Haven’t had a homecooked meal in forever.” 

“Didn’t you cook, like, on the road? You literally built a stove into your van.” 

Richie barks out a laugh. “I did, but I can’t really cook for shit. Ate way more ramen noodles than I care to admit. Surprised I still have this much hair, honestly,” he muses, gesturing to the wild mop of hair on his head. “Thanks, Eds, really. For this, and for letting me crash.” 

“Any time, Richie,” Eddie says simply. Soon enough, the conversation feels normal, and a semblance of balance settles amongst the two. When dinner is done, Richie offers to do the dishes while Eddie takes a shower. Eddie’s toweling his hair when he gets out, and Richie has made himself comfortable on the mattress, using his laptop. Eddie freezes for a moment, realising he hadn’t taken into consideration their sleeping situation. Sharing a bed with Richie wasn’t necessarily foreign to Eddie; they’d spent their childhood with their legs tangled together during sleepovers with Bill, and Richie did his fair share of sneaking into Eddie’s room after Sonia started freaking out about everything after his dad passed away. Eddie stares at Richie, who’s typing away on his laptop, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Getting some work done?” Eddie prompts, and Richie looks up in surprise. 

“Hey, Eds,” Richie says softly. “Didn’t hear you come out. And yeah, getting some emails and posts done before fully soaking in this break,” he replies, making space beside him for Eddie. Eddie waves him off, walking over to his desk and opening his laptop to scroll through Twitter, catching up with some news and watching his timeline beat the shit out of the latest meme format. After a while, Richie closes his laptop and takes off his glasses, snuggling beneath the thick comforter. 

“Goodnight, Eds,” Eddie hears Richie mumble, and soon Richie is snoring softly. Eddie scrolls through his socials for a couple more minutes before closing his laptop. He assesses the man in his bed; Richie is bunched up under the covers and facing the wall. Eddie goes to switch off the apartment lights, cautiously making his way over to his mattress in the dark. He settles down beneath the blanket, careful to leave some space between them. Eddie has been staring at the dark ceiling for 20 minutes, desperately trying to fall asleep, when Richie stirs beside him, turning over and sneaking an arm around Eddie’s waist, pulling the smaller man towards him. Eddie lets him, and their legs tangle together and Richie’s spooning him and it’s familiar, and comfortable. 

“Missed this,” Richie mumbles, voice sleep heavy, and he buries his face into Eddie’s hair. Eddie sucks in a breath. Richie smells like him, he realises, like his citrus scented shampoo. He revels in it. “I missed you, Eds.” 

“Missed you too, Rich,” Eddie replies quietly, and soon Richie’s breath evens out, and his body goes pliant against Eddie. Eddie falls asleep faster than he realises it.

&

Eddie wakes up to the smell of coffee and fried eggs wafting from the kitchen. He groans, assuming Bill had broken into his house again to make sure he was eating.

“Get the fuck out of my house, Bill!” He yells, eyes still closed. “I’m taking my fucking spare key back.” 

“Who the fuck’s Bill? You got someone you ain’t tellin’ me about?” It doesn’t sound like Bill at all, and Eddie’s eyes fly open, snapping out of his sleep haze. Richie is in the kitchen, whisking eggs by the stove. His messy hair is tied up into a bun on the top of his head. Eddie stares at Richie, who’s smirking with one eyebrow raised, questioning. It hits Eddie like a train – Richie’s _here_ , not driving along unending highways or camping out in forests in his beaten-up van, not taking photos in waterfalls to upload to his Instagram and blog. Eddie tumbles out of bed and makes a beeline for Richie, and before Richie pours the beaten eggs into the pan Eddie hugs him tightly, burying his face into Richie’s chest, letting out a small sob. 

“Hey, Eds. I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here,” Richie murmurs quietly, setting down the bowl and enveloping Eddie into his being. He brings a hand to tangle in Eddie’s bedhead, softly caressing the one spot at the back of his head that he knows sends shivers down Eddie’s spine. He whimpers softly into Richie’s chest, and Richie holds him tighter. 

“I know, baby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Richie repeats. Eddie pulls away from Richie slowly, wiping his eyes and muttering an apology. He wants to forgive Richie, but he can’t – not yet. Richie’s giving him an apologetic look now, and Eddie turns to head to the bathroom to wash his face. When he’s done, Richie has breakfast ready. 

“Thought you couldn’t cook?” Eddie asks, sitting down at his desk. There’s a plate with Eggos, two eggs, and bacon on the side. Richie saunters over with two steaming cups of coffee. 

“Eddie, those are literally waffles from your freezer. And I was gonna make pancakes, but you didn’t have flour,” Richie says, sitting down on the crate this time. “Didn’t know how you take your coffee, hope black is good. And you still like your eggs over easy?” 

“Black’s good, Rich, any caffeine’s good,” Eddie says, and Richie nods in agreement. “And yeah, I don’t really use flour, so I don’t buy it. Oh, and over easy is good.” 

“Yeah, eggs are like, the easiest thing to cook. Versatile too.” Eddie hums in agreement, and they eat in a comfortable silence. Richie posts an update to his Instagram profile, and Eddie is somewhat grateful when he realises he left his own phone under his pillow. Richie spends the rest of breakfast scrolling through his feed, leaving comments on others’ posts. Once they’re done, Eddie washes the dishes, while Richie unpacks his bags and sorts out his clothes. 

“Hey, so uh, who’s this Bill guy?” Richie says suddenly from the floor.

“Bill?” Eddie’s confused at first, but briefly remembers his mix-up that morning. “Oh, that Bill. It’s Bill Denbrough, y’know, from Derry?” 

“Oh shit, Big Bill? No way! Wait, he’s here in New York too?” Richie questions excitedly. 

“Yeah, we met in NYU a few years back. Got assigned as roommates in the second year. Kinda funny, we didn’t even know we were in the same school until then,” Eddie chuckles, remembering move-in day that year, when he walked in and Bill had shrieked his name and scooped him into a huge hug. 

Richie folds up the remainder of his dirty clothes, standing up to get a glass of water. “Oh damn, who would’ve thought? So, Eds, how was the college experience, huh? What was your major again?” 

“I did Economics and Political Science. Minored in History,” Eddie says nonchalantly, wiping down the last of the dishes and placing it in the cabinet below the sink. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Eds, double-major and a minor?” Richie says incredulously. “How’d you even manage that?” 

_Barely did_ , Eddie wants to say, but he just shrugs. “Didn’t sleep much, worked a few part-time jobs here and there. Needed a distraction after, y’know… Bill helped me. A lot. Made sure I didn’t die. I’m pretty sure I took a few years off his life, I probably spread the stress to him.” 

It’s a joke, or at least an attempt at one, because Richie doesn’t laugh. Instead, he narrows his eyes at Eddie, and they’re filled with concern rather than mirth. Richie fills another glass with water and hands it to Eddie, who mutters a “thanks”. 

“What’s the plan for today?” Eddie asks, sipping on his water. 

“There isn’t one, at the moment,” Richie replies. “I mean, you’re the local, show me around New York, baby!”

&

They chill for a while more in Eddie’s apartment, watching a few episodes of _The Good Place_ on Eddie’s laptop. It’s around 2pm when they decide to head out, and Eddie decides to take Richie on the most generic New York tour, bringing him to Central Park and then Times Square. Central Park isn’t necessarily eventful, and they walk around, admiring the autumn foliage, taking breaks to people watch. Some of the trees had turned a paler orange, and some were still as vibrant as they were in October. They head towards Times Square for a late lunch of New York pizza, and they sit in the middle of Times Square with two slices each.

“God, this is so good. Better than Chicago Deep Dish, I reckon,” Richie says around a mouthful of pizza. Eddie snorts. 

“Chicago Deep Dish is a fucking _pie_ , Richie.”

“It’s pretty fuckin’ good though, but I don’t think it’s got anything on this,” Richie grins. They watch a busker while eating their pizza, singing songs on his guitar as passersby throw a few coins into his open guitar case every now and then. Richie grabs his second slice and takes a selfie with it, making a quick edit and posting it to Instagram. Eddie’s phone pings, and he tries to reach for it before Richie glances down at Eddie’s phone on the floor between them. 

“Someone’s been keeping up,” Richie smirks, looking at Eddie’s lock screen. Eddie tries to push down the flush rising on his cheeks. He fails miserably. 

**_INSTAGRAM  
[eddiewithane]: rollingwithrichie has just uploaded a photo. _ **

“Hey, no, I think it’s sweet,” Richie says, a bit more serious, and Eddie feels like a deer caught in headlights. 

“How’s the influencer life treating you?” Eddie changes the subject, and Richie purses his lips into a smaller smirk. 

“It’s good, I mean, definitely ideal for the road. Doesn’t tie you down to one place, y’know? But the income varies from month to month, not exactly a stable job. Gave me something to do though, one can only learn so much guitar on the road,” Richie replies, finishing up his slice of pizza. 

“Your parents’ insurance keep you afloat for long?”

Richie nods, a sad smile forming across his face. “Yeah, and the money I saved up before I left.” Eddie gives an acknowledging hum, finishing up the crust on his pizza. 

“I miss them,” Eddie blurts out. “Your parents, I mean. They were… they were good people.” 

“I miss them too, Eds.” Richie sighs, looking up at the billboards against the now darkening sky. His parents had gotten into a horrific car accident in Richie’s and Eddie’s final year of high school, and they were killed on impact. Richie had never seemed to let it get the best of him, though, and managed to pull through the last few months of school, still passing with flying colours. Eddie had never understood how he managed to maintain his optimistic demeanor. 

“It’s fuckin’ cold, Eds,” Richie says suddenly, standing up and dusting himself off before extending a hand towards Eddie. “Let’s get a drink. Bar recommendation on you.” Eddie gives him a small smile, and takes his hand, pulling himself up, and they head towards the subway.

&

Eddie’s tipsy, his cheeks are flushed and warm, and there’s a pleasant buzz spreading beneath his skin. He knows he’s drunk because he’s been giggling at the worst of Richie’s bad jokes for the past hour. They’re stumbling home from the cheap dive bar Eddie goes to sometimes, not too far from his place. Richie’s singing random 80s songs loudly, and a lit cigarette sits between his fingers that he brings up to suck between his teeth every now and then.

“Shouldn’t smoke, Rich,” Eddie slurs slightly, and Richie giggles at him. “Bad for you. Bad.” 

“Aw, sweetheart, you concerned for my health?” Richie croons, and Eddie scowls at him. 

“Makes you stink more than you already do,” he wrinkles his nose at Richie, who gasps and fakes a scandalized look, placing his hand on his chest. 

“You wound me, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie bats his eyelashes, pouting his lip dramatically. He reaches out a hand to tousle Eddie’s hair, and gets his arm smacked in return. 

“Hey, don’t touch me!” The words fall on Richie’s deaf ears, and he giggles as he keeps reaching out to touch Eddie’s hair. Eddie tries to run away from Richie, who catches up easily with his long legs, and grabs Eddie by the waist, lifting him off the ground and running. 

“RICHIE! Put me down you asshole!” Eddie shrieks, and Richie laughs and runs a few feet more before putting him down. Eddie crosses his arms and pouts. “You’re such a dick, Richie.” 

“That’s my name! And you’re still sooooo tiny Eds!” Richie giggles, pulling Eddie into a hug, swaying them side to side. Eddie rolls his eyes, hugging Richie back. They stand there in silence for a while, and suddenly, to Eddie’s surprise, Richie presses a brief kiss to Eddie’s forehead. Eddie meets Richie’s eyes, knowing his are full of confusion and want. Richie just grins dopily at him, a few strands of hair falling out from his bun and over his face, and Eddie thinks he looks stupidly gorgeous. 

“It’s freezing, Eds,” Richie whispers, bringing a hand up to brush a strand of Eddie’s hair out of his face. “We should go back.” Eddie nods, clearing his throat, and they pull away from each other, walking the last five minutes to Eddie’s apartment. They take the elevator up to Eddie’s floor, and the tension is so tangible that Eddie thinks if he reached out and tried to touch it, he’d see it ripple around them. He fumbles with his keys, and he attributes his shaking hands to the cold. Richie chuckles, and asks for the keys, opening the door effortlessly. 

They get their shoes and coats off, and Eddie pads over to his bed in the dark and switches the lamp on. At this point, all he wants to do is collapse into bed. Water first, Eddie thinks, and goes to heat up some in the electric kettle on his countertop. Richie’s watching him silently, leaning against the counter. The kettle hisses as it heats up, the only sound in the apartment. Eddie yawns, sniffling a little from the cold air. As he goes to collect two mugs from the cabinet, Richie’s hand suddenly grabs his wrist, inviting Eddie to look at him. So he turns, and Richie is so close to him now, the fronts of their bodies almost pressed together. 

“Eddie,” Richie whispers, bringing a hand up to the smaller man’s face, and Eddie closes his eyes, leaning into Richie’s touch. He can feel the warmth of Richie’s breath on his cheeks, and when he opens his eyes to meet Richie’s, it’s over. Eddie leans up and presses his lips to Richie’s desperately, and to his relief, Richie kisses him back. He kisses Eddie like he’s starving, reaching down to grab his thighs and hoisting him up onto the counter, pulling Eddie flush against his body. Eddie thinks he’s going to die. He tangles a hand in Richie’s curls, nibbling and sucking on his bottom lip, and Richie moans, opening his mouth to kiss him deeper. 

They pull away from each other with a wet smack, and Eddie revels in how debauched Richie looks. His pupils are blown, and his lips are swollen and bitten red. Richie threads his fingers along the hem of Eddie’s shirt, silently asking for permission, and Eddie reaches for Richie’s shirt as well. Within seconds, they’re wrestled themselves out of their shirts, their lips meeting again. Richie lifts Eddie as though he weighs nothing, carrying him over to the bed and laying him down. Richie kisses down Eddie’s chest and stomach, his tongue coming out to tease his hipbones protruding from the waistline of his pants. 

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps, his back arching slightly. “Rich… Richie, please.” 

Richie grins devilishly, climbing up and lying on his side beside Eddie. His fingers tease the waistband of Eddie’s pants. “Please what, baby? You gotta tell me.” Eddie whines pathetically, aching in his pants. Richie chuckles, and he brushes his fingers over a nipple, closing his mouth over the other and sucking, smiling when Eddie lets out a loud moan. 

“Fuckin’… just touch me, Rich, _please_ ,” Eddie begs, and Richie looks up at him, faking a confused look. 

“Aren’t I doing that, sweetheart?” He blows cold air onto the nipple he’d just been sucking on, and Eddie bites his lip, trying to muffle the moan he lets out. 

“Richie, just touch my dick, please, goddamn it,” Eddie relents, and Richie smirks, unbuttoning Eddie’s pants and tugging them off with his boxers before doing the same. Eddie opens the crate beside his bed to retrieve some condoms and lube, leaving them beside his mattress. The sight of Richie’s bare body makes Eddie’s mouth water; he’s as pale as ever, but his arms are toned and there’s some muscle definition in his stomach and legs. Richie catches him staring and grins. 

“You like what you see, sweetheart?” Eddie flushes down to his chest. 

“If you don’t shut the fuck up and kiss me now, I’m gonna be real mad,” Eddie says impatiently, and Richie laughs, climbing over Eddie and pulling him into a deep kiss.

&

Eddie wakes up to an empty bed. There’s no sign of Richie in the apartment; his bag of clothes is gone. Eddie clambers out of bed and pulls on his boxers and a shirt from the floor, looking for any that Richie was still there. Eddie feels his insides turn into crumbling stone, and suddenly he can’t breathe.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispers, and it bounces off his bare walls. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He curls up on the cold floor in the middle of his apartment, and he can feel the sting behind his nose as his eyes well up with tears. He almost panic calls Bill when the door suddenly clicks open softly. 

“Eds? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Eddie snaps his head up, and Richie’s in the doorway, a pile of freshly dried clothes in one arm and his laptop in the other. 

“I– I…” Eddie tries to say something, but it dies in his throat. Richie places his clothes and laptop on the counter and kneels in front of Eddie, cradling Eddie’s contorted face as he tries not to fully burst into tears. 

Richie’s eyes are filled with concern. “Eds, baby, look at me. What happened?” He strokes a thumb over Eddie’s cheek, and a tear escapes Eddie’s eyes. 

“I thought you left,” Eddie blurts out, his voice small and pathetic. The _me_ at the end of the sentence doesn’t make it out. 

“Oh, sweetheart, c’mere,” Richie coos, sitting down and scooping Eddie into his arms. Eddie holds on to him, reminding himself that Richie is here, that he’s real and he can touch him. He takes it all in before the one day he knows he’d wake up and Richie would be truly gone, not just downstairs in the damn laundry room. 

“Eddie, you silly baby,” Richie says softly after a few minutes. “I left you a note.” Eddie blinks up at him, surprised. Richie reaches over to the crate beside Eddie’s bed and picks off a sticky note with the words “DOING LAUNDRY, BRB <3” written on it. Eddie suddenly feels really stupid, but Richie smiles fondly and pinches his cheek softly. 

“I… I didn’t see it,” Eddie sighs, wiping at his nose. “Sorry for the drama.” 

“You missed me, huh?” Richie muses, ignoring his apology. Eddie punches him softly in the chest. Richie just presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s forehead, then hugging him closer, and it makes Eddie blush. Richie’s warm, and he doesn’t want to get out of the embrace. 

“What time is it?” Eddie asks quietly. 

“About 10am.” 

“What’re you doing today?” 

“Well, Eds, after you get off me, I gotta fold my clothes,” Richie teases, and Eddie rolls off Richie’s lap and onto the floor, wincing at how cold it is. “But other than that, nothing much planned, really. Why? You got plans?” 

“Yeah. You wanna join Bill, Mike and I for brunch?” 

“Who’s Mike?” Richie asks as he gets up and walks over to his pile of clothes, grabbing a shirt and folding it. 

“Bill’s boyfriend.” 

“Bill has a boyfriend?” 

“Yeah, Rich,” Eddie frowns slightly. “Is that a problem, or something?” 

“Eddie, I literally had my tongue in your ass last night, why would it be a problem?” Eddie chokes on his saliva, and Richie smirks at him. “Oh, don’t get all bashful on me now, Eds. I would love to meet them. Let me finish folding these first?” Eddie nods, and reaches for his phone to text Bill only to find a few messages from Bill already. 

**[1 December 2019, 8:45am] From: Big Bill**  
Merry December asshole! We still on for brunch today? Thinking about this place in Brooklyn. Near yours. 

**[1 December 2019, 9:02am] From: Big Bill**  
Let me know if you’re gonna make it! Think I’ll place a reservation. 

**[1 December 2019, 9:10am] From: Big Bill**  
Eddieeeeeeee, you alive? 

**[1 December 2019, 10:07am] To: Big Bill**  
Hey sflr we slept in a little. Brunch sounds good! 

**[1 December 2019, 10:10am] From: Big Bill**  
Good morning Sleeping Beauty. Also, who’s we? 

**[1 December 2019, 10:10am] To: Big Bill**  
Oh. Richie. 

**[1 December 2019, 10:10am] From: Big Bill**  
;) ;) ;) 

**[1 December 2019, 10:10am] From: Big Bill**  
Tell us more later :D Booking’s at 11:30am btw, n here’s the address. Don’t be late!

&

They’re late by five minutes, no thanks to Richie getting distracted by every dog they saw on the street. The place is a small, hole-in-the-wall joint, and it reminds Eddie of a hobbit hole; it’s rustic with bookshelves lining the walls, and there are pots of plants hanging from the ceiling. They don’t need to look for Bill and Mike – not because the place was so tiny – because Bill runs out from the corner where they’re sat and flings himself into Richie’s arms.

“Jesus Christ, dude. Look at you! You’re a giant,” Bill exclaims, holding Richie’s shoulders. 

“Nice to see you too, Big Bill,” Richie chuckles, and soon they get settled down at their seat, ordering their food. Bill introduces Mike to Richie, and Mike asks about Richie’s life on the road. It’s easy conversation from there, and Richie’s face lights up with every new story he tells them. They hear about Ben and Bev, and influencer couple in Los Angeles that he met at some event and spent a couple of Christmases with, about times he nearly got caught camping in places he definitely wasn’t supposed to, and about the multiple times his van broke down in the middle of nowhere. 

“Weren’t you scared? Like, of dying in the middle of nowhere?” Eddie suddenly quips, frowning. He picks at the last bits of his panini on his plate. 

“I was fuckin’ terrified, Eds,” Richie laughs nervously. “But you keep thinkin’ that, and it’s more likely to happen.” Mike raises his eyebrows in agreement, pulling a face, and Bill nods. Richie lets out a loud burp, and Eddie wrinkles his nose. Bill gives it a rating of a seven out of ten. 

“I want cake,” Richie announces, grinning at Eddie’s disgusted face. 

“The sea salt caramel cheesecake here is really good,” Mike recommends, and before Eddie realises it, Richie’s jumped up from his seat and is sauntering over to the counter, looking at the cakes behind the glass. 

“Okay, so, when’s the wedding?” Mike suddenly asks, and Eddie’s attention snaps to the grinning couple opposite him. 

“Fuck off, you two. He’s been here for only a couple days.” 

“And yet, he’s giving you these heart eyes like you guys have been together forever,” Bill singsongs, before Richie suddenly plops down beside Eddie with a slice of cake in hand and two forks. 

“Who’s been together forever?” Richie asks, and before Eddie can change the subject, Richie’s already grabbing a fork and shoving a piece of cake in his mouth. “Oh my god, Mike, you were right. This is amazing.” 

“Right? Told ya,” Mike grins, and Bill reaches for the other fork, only to get his hand smacked. 

“Ow! What the fuck, Richie?” Bill exclaims, scowling. Mike’s got an eyebrow raised in surprise. Richie snickers around the fork in his mouth. 

“That’s for Eds. Get your own cake dipshit.”

&

They don’t do much for the rest of the day. They spend a few more hours just chatting and hanging out in the café, and after brunch, they part ways with Mike and Bill and head back to Eddie’s apartment.

“Jesus, I could take a fat fucking nap right now,” Richie says as he shrugs his coat off, walking over to his pile of clothes to pick out a clean sweatshirt and pants. He strips off his clothes and Eddie’s mouth goes dry at the sight, reminding him of the night before. He shakes any thoughts about what Richie would possibly sound like under him, or at least, he tries to. Once he’s changed, he runs and jumps into bed, burying himself under the thick duvet, and Eddie crawls in beside him after he’s changed. 

They watch a few more episodes of _The Good Place_ before Eddie starts struggling to keep his eyes open. Richie’s got an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, and he’s already snoring softly. Eddie pauses the episode and closes the laptop, placing it on the floor. 

“Hey!” Richie suddenly mumbles, and Eddie jumps slightly. “I was watching that…” Richie pouts, making grabby hands for the laptop and latching them onto Eddie instead. 

“Yeah right, Rich, your eyes were closed.” 

“I was… listening?” Eddie rolls his eyes and kicks Richie’s shin softly under the blanket, making him laugh.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Eddie huffs, snuggling into Richie’s arms. They fall asleep within minutes.

&

Eddie’s alarm clock blares obnoxiously the next morning, and he reluctantly wiggles out of Richie’s arms to turn it off and head to the bathroom to take a piss and a shower. He’s putting on his blazer for work when Richie stirs in bed.

“Eds? Where’re you going?” Richie mumbles, his voice deep and raspy with sleep. Eddie almost heads right back to bed. 

“I got work, Rich.” 

“Why?” Eddie can practically hear him pouting. 

“What do you mean ‘why’, Richie?” Eddie chuckles, grabbing his shoes and putting them on. 

“Stay with me,” Richie whines. “I’m cold.” 

“I would if I could, Rich,” Eddie says before finishing up with his laces. Richie just grumbles incoherently, and he’s asleep again by the time Eddie heads out the door.

&

The day goes by cruelly slow, and Eddie’s bored out his mind. He has lunch with Stan and Patty, who bombard him with questions about Richie. They manage to wrangle his Instagram handle out of Eddie, and Patty spends the remaining 15 minutes of their lunch break stalking Richie’s photos.

“He’s cute,” Stan observes, watching Patty scroll through Richie’s profile over her shoulder, and Patty nods excitedly in agreement. 

“You want in, Stan?” Eddie snarks, and Stan rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not stealing your man, Eddie,” Stan says, looking pleased when Eddie chokes on his water. 

“He’s _not_ my man.” 

“Yeah, right,” Patty jumps in. “I want an invite to the wedding.” 

Eddie is drained from the lack of brain stimulation the whole day, and he slowly finishes up the last of his paperwork. He just wants to go home, eat dinner, and pass the fuck out. He grabs some Chinese takeout on the way home, completely against the idea of cooking, and by the time he’s trudging down the corridor to his apartment it’s almost 7pm. He finds his door already unlocked and his apartment filled with… stuff. 

A lot of stuff. 

There are two armchairs with mismatching upholstery that look like Eddie’s grandma’s wallpaper sitting next to his desk, a large box with a TV inside, and an old silver bicycle leaning against his windows. There are a few IKEA boxes littering the apartment floor. Richie’s at the centre of it all, hair tied up with music playing from his laptop, and putting together a Christmas tree. A fucking Christmas tree. 

“What… the fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks, and Richie looks up and bolts to his feet, a wide grin plastered across his face. 

“Eds! You’re home!” Richie excitedly tumbles towards Eddie, and narrowly avoids tripping over a gold bauble on the floor. He reaches for the food in Eddie’s hands, and starts unpacking it on the counter. He pushes a box of orange chicken with rice towards Eddie, taking the soy chicken noodles for himself. 

He eats a few mouthfuls before continuing. “So, I decided to explore your neighbourhood today. Found a few thrift stores around and decided to check them out. Found Silver over there,” Richie points at the bike, “And I figured, I should get a new one anyways. And then, I found Tweedledum and Tweedledee over here,” Richie walks excitedly over to the armchairs and plops into one of them. “I thought they would add some character to this place, y’know?” 

Richie’s talking a thousand miles a minute, and Eddie hasn’t moved from his spot near the door. The box of food seems to taunt him, and he doesn’t feel hungry anymore. “What about the rest of it?” He asks quietly. 

“Oh! Yeah, I got us some extra storage, a new clothes rack for anything you wanna hang outside your dresser. Could be extra decoration too, who knows? And of course, I got a tree! It’s a plastic one, so we can reuse it next year. Actual trees are such a waste, honestly Eds.” 

Eddie looks around his apartment, trying to take it all in, and he thinks he might throw up. He must’ve gotten green in the face, because Richie has abandoned his box of food and is walking straight towards Eddie, looking concerned. 

“Hey, Eds? You alright?” Richie asks, reaching for his shoulders. Eddie opens and closes his mouth like a fish, but no words come out. He grabs his food off the counter and pushes his way out of Richie’s touch and heads for his desk, kicking a bauble out of the way. Richie follows him, sitting next to him on one of the armchairs, and watches Eddie quietly. 

“Eddie? What’s wrong, baby?” The pet name is the last straw, and Eddie’s chest bursts like a dam. 

“Richie, I don’t want all of this stuff. I don’t want _stuff_ ,” Eddie manages to grit out. “I’ve got everything I need, and… and all this stuff just takes up unnecessary space and…” 

“Yeah, I know. I mean, I had to live with the bare essentials on the road and now–” 

“And now what, Richie?” Eddie snaps, turning his head towards Richie. “And now you can just show up and just make your way back into my life like nothing’s changed?” 

“I mean… yeah. I just thought, y’know, we were best friends, Eds,” Richie fumbles for the right words. “Maybe we could work it out, y’know?” 

Eddie wants to scream. “Richie,” he says exasperatedly, getting up and pacing around. “I waited, you know? I fucking waited for you to come visit me at school, or maybe even consider joining me. I thought we were going to do this together. God, I really thought we were going to escape that fucking shithole _together_.” 

And I needed you, Rich. I really fucking needed you when my mom passed, and you… you weren’t there,” Eddie’s voice cracks, and he runs a hand over his face, willing himself not to start crying. 

“I got carried away,” Richie says quietly. “I was gonna come and visit but…” 

“Yeah, I know, Rich. And I’m… I’m happy for you. I know this is what you always wanted,” Eddie waves his hand at nothing hopelessly. “You should go, head back out to the open road. Hit up Bev and Ben for Christmas again. It’s gonna take you, what, a few days?” 

“That’s not what I want,” Richie bites out, and he’s standing now, his brows furrowed with frustration. “Is that what you want?"

Eddie meets Richie’s eyes. “I would rather get this over and done with, yeah.” He stands to head to the kitchen to put his uneaten food in the fridge, but Richie grabs his arm. 

“Eds, listen to me,” Richie pleads.

“No, Richie. You listen to me. I want this with you,” Eddie gestures to the messy apartment. “I want this more than anything in my fucking life. But you can’t just walk into my life for a few weeks and then leave again. I can’t do this again, Richie.” Eddie pries Richie’s hand off his arm, and pulls away to his kitchen to put the food in the fridge. 

“I couldn’t do it,” Richie blurts out. He’s standing hopelessly in the middle of the apartment, head hanging. Eddie crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow, reluctantly hearing Richie out. 

“I couldn’t stay, Eds. You knew that. Derry just… didn’t feel like home, it never did, and I just wanted to find out what home was, you know?” Richie rambles on, his hands doing half of the talking. “And, and I did. After five fucking years I finally realised where I belonged.” 

Eddie closes his eyes and shakes his head. He doesn’t want to hear about California, or Indiana, or some place up in Canada. “Please, Richie. No. I can’t hear this right now.” 

He feels Richie grab his hands, and he opens his eyes to see Richie standing so close to him, his eyes searching Eddie’s face for _something_. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I’m sorry for leaving. I took so long trying to find out where home was and…” his voice trails off in a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry for taking so long to realise that home is with you.” 

_Oh._

“You’re my home, Eds. You always have been. And I will walk to all ends of the earth if it meant I’d be with you,” Richie says, and there’s a note of finality to it. Eddie feels a tear run down his cheek, and he hadn’t even realised he was crying. 

“God, you’re so fucking cheesy, Richie.” Eddie says, his voice wobbling. Richie laughs, and Eddie realises his face is wet too. He brings a hand up to wipe Richie’s tears away with his thumb. 

“I know I am, but you love m– it,” Richie is holding Eddie’s waist now, slowly drawing him closer. 

“Just shut the fuck up, Richie,” Eddie breathes out, before leaning up to kiss Richie. It’s not heated and rushed like two nights ago; it’s soft and comforting and familiar, and Richie sighs into Eddie’s mouth. He picks Eddie up again and puts him on the kitchen counter to balance out their height before kissing Eddie dizzily on the mouth again.

&

“Is that the last of the fucking boxes?” Eddie calls out, grunting as he stacks the one he’s holding onto another. The new apartment looks like a forest of cardboard boxes, each tree (stack) a different variation. For someone who claimed to not have a lot of stuff, he sure had a lot of boxes surrounding him. Perhaps it had something to do with the lanky mop of curls walking through the door right now.

“I got the last one, Eds,” Richie calls from the door, and he sets it down before grinning at his very tiny, very tired boyfriend across the apartment. Eddie lies down on the floor in the middle of the stacks and lets out a _whoo!_ , throwing his hands up. Richie laughs, and sits down beside him, looking around their new apartment. It’s a considerable upgrade from the studio; it has two bedrooms, a kitchen for their cooking adventures, and a sizeable living room. 

Richie lies down beside Eddie, who has his eyes closed, on the verge of falling asleep right there. “I love you,” Richie says, reaching for Eddie’s hand and intertwining their fingers. Eddie opens one eye to look at him. 

“I really hope you do, because we’re stuck in this apartment together for the next two years,” he teases before adding, “I love you too, asshole.” 

Richie chuckles, looking at Eddie with a mix of adoration and love, and he presses a soft kiss to his hand. 

“We should start unpacking, babe,” Richie says softly, but Eddie pulls a grumpy face, and Richie just wants to squish him. “C’mon, you big baby.” 

Eddie sits up with a huff, and he’s unpacking a box when his phone pings from his pocket. Grateful for the distraction, he pulls it out and checks the notification. 

**_INSTAGRAM  
[eddiewithane]: rollingwithrichie has just uploaded a photo._ **

He glances at Richie who’s sitting on the kitchen floor, scrolling through his phone mindlessly, and narrows his eyes at him. He hasn’t posted in over a month. Eddie slides open the notification curiously, and to his surprise, sees a photo of himself from earlier when he was lying down in the middle of all the boxes. His face isn’t exactly visible, which he appreciates. He scrolls down to read the caption. 

_**rollingwithrichie** hiatus, indefinite // hey everyone, i know i haven’t posted in a while. i’ve been in new york reconnecting with old friends and people that i haven’t seen in ages, to whom i definitely haven’t been showing enough love and appreciation over the past few years i’ve been on the road. i’m here to announce that i’m taking a hiatus, and i don’t know how long it’ll be for. i don’t know that i’ll ever be back on the road, or if i’ll ever update on any of my rollingwithrichie accounts again, but i do know one thing for sure. that i am where i’m supposed to be. i’ll miss the road, and i’ll miss sharing every adventure with you guys, but i think it’s time i settle down for a while. thank you for your endless support over the years, i love you all. Richie Tozier._

Eddie looks up at Richie, who’s smiling softly at him, his eyes shining slightly with tears. Eddie gets up and sits by Richie’s side, hugging him and pressing a kiss to his neck. 

“You sure you want this?” Eddie murmurs into the soft skin of Richie’s neck.

“Eds, did you not read my caption at all?” Richie laughs, poking Eddie’s side and making him squeal. They end up in a tickle war with Eddie beneath Richie, shrieking at Richie’s relentless fingers on his sides. Eddie gives up eventually, and there are tears running down his face from laughing so hard. 

“We should go in the summer,” Eddie says suddenly, and Richie looks down at him in confusion. 

“Go where, baby?” Richie asks, getting off Eddie. He reaches for a nearby box with the word “MUGS” on it and slices the sealing tape with a penknife. 

“I don’t know, somewhere. Take your van and go somewhere, or nowhere, for a couple weeks. I know you’ll miss it. Plus, I wanna go with you.” Eddie says, sitting up, and Richie puts down the penknife and pulls Eddie into a bruising kiss. 

“I fucking love you, Eddie Kaspbrak,” Richie announces when he pulls back, and he immediately launches into places they could go and people they could visit. Eddie sits back and watches Richie chatter away as he sets the mugs in a cabinet, and he lets out a sigh of relief. Richie is here with him, and it finally hits him that Richie’s never leaving again. Not without him. They are okay, and they were going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading this! i don’t know if i’m 100% happy with it, but i spent most of my winter break working on this and i’m very relieved to finish it and i love anything to do with this pairing. i welcome any kinds of criticism/feedback! talk to me in the comments or on [my tumblr](https://wintersldrs.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> also, happy new year! may 2020 be a year of love, excitement, and new beginnings for you.


End file.
